


Starstrand

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Love Like Yours 2020 [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood, Body Image, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fat Shaming, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Reyja struggles with body image issues and shame while fleeing the guards with Julian for the first time.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s)
Series: Love Like Yours 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753846
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Starstrand

**Author's Note:**

> For the Love Like Yours prompt "Nothing Can Harm You"

This is bad, this is bad, this is bad, this is _bad_.

I can’t breathe.

I had been running, and then I wasn’t. A shock of cold water, a searing pain in my side, no air for my straining lungs. My mind went blank, then, as empty and dark as the reservoir.

But strong arms hauled me out. Me and whatever pale monster had latched itself to my abdomen. I felt its teeth leave my skin as my rescuer forced its jaws open. It was too big to throw, ten feet or longer, but a sharp kick sent it writhing back into the depths, dousing us both with its frantic splashes. 

“Reyja! I need you to keep your eyes open, okay?”

My name comes to me through a fog of shock in a voice I recognize, but cannot place. It’s soothing, calm though the hands that fly over my body are anything but. The bite wound doesn’t hurt despite every pound of my racing heart forcing more blood through the gashes in my flesh. I watch dully as brilliant red seeps into the water dripping from my clothes.

Red water.

I had been following a stream of red water.

It seeped out of the Palace and down into the city.

At the southern edge of town, where cramped hovels huddle against the cliffside and the remnants of old aqueducts still soar overhead, I found a pool. And standing at its edge, a tall, lean man in a billowing coat.

Julian.

Again.

When the guards shouted, I ran. He had reached for my hand and, without thinking, I let him take it. But the cliffs here are rocky and steep. One wrong step was all it took. I stumbled, my ankle rolled, and the ground beneath me gave out.

The next thing I knew was engulfing darkness. And cold. And a rush of water down my throat.

And sharp teeth from nowhere, milk-white skin sliding past mine, then a strike backed by enough power to knock me senseless.

This is bad.

Julian’s voice comes back, distant though I can feel him next to me. “Damn it, the bleeding won’t stop. Reyja? Stay with me, sweetheart, please!”

I cough weakly. Another gush of blood flows out between his long, pale fingers. His gloves are off, I realize. I haven’t seen him without them before. He’s muttering to himself in Neviv, I think. Some unfamiliar language. I wonder absently why he’s moving so fast. Surely if I were in danger, I’d also be in pain. But I don’t feel anything.

Guards. We were running from Palace guards. Palace guards who hunted for Julian specifically. I won’t be responsible for getting him captured. My mind is hazy, but that thought punches through. He needs to leave.

“Julian,” I manage to whisper.

He doesn’t even pause, though he lets out a relieved breath. “That eel got a nice chunk of you, didn’t it? Never seen a bite like this before.”

“You— you should go.”

“Go? I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, you have to.” Slowly, my awareness returns. “The guards… they’ll still be looking for you.”

Wind off the sea brings a chill to my newly-bared skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” Julian repeats firmly.

I struggle to sit up. He has to listen. “Please. Don’t waste time on me.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Reyja. Just lie back and I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

“No…” I protest, but softly. Just lifting my head made it spin. That, and the gentle pressure of his hand on my forehead, convince me to relax against the cobblestones. “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

“Whatever for?”

“This. All of this.”

Julian doesn’t answer. I can feel his other hand resting on my belly, fingers spread wide to cover the bite. As if tripping and falling weren’t embarrassing enough, now he’s seen the worst part of me. Touched it, even.

For a moment, I wish the eel had dragged me down.

Without warning, a flash of white light blinds me. I can’t tell where it came from until it fades, leaving only the faintest glow illuminating a sigil on Julian’s throat. In its wake, he grimaces and presses a bloody hand to his side, exactly where I’d been bitten. This time, when I push myself to my elbows, I stay there, and when I look, my stomach is as smooth as it’s always been, with no sign of the eel’s jagged tears.

But blood still drips. Julian sits back and hisses between his teeth. “Fuck, that stings.”

No. He couldn’t have… “What just happened?”

Despite his pain, he smiles at me. “Not to worry, my dear. Just a little trick I learned from your former master.” His expression darkens. “A curse, really. But I’ll be alright. It never lasts.”

Asra did this? It doesn’t feel like his magic, but if it’s true, that would certainly explain why Julian came to hunt him down. A curse, indeed. But even as I watch, he straightens up, prodding the wound experimentally. Whatever the result, he must be satisfied with it, because he nods sharply and grabs his gloves, shoving them into his pockets.

“Right. Now, can you stand?” he asks.

I have to. It seems he won’t leave without me, and the guards must be close by. “Yeah.”

He helps me anyway. The change in altitude sends black circles swimming across my vision, but I manage to maintain my balance. Nevertheless, Julian keeps his arm around my back as he makes use of his height to scan the aqueduct and alleys below. I’m so close to him I can feel his ribs expand and contract when he sighs, relieved.

“It's not ideal, but, unfortunately, we can’t stay here,” he says, hunching low again to support me.

“I tried to tell you that—”

“It’s my fault you fell, Reyja.” He swallows hard. “You wouldn’t have run from the guards had you been on your own. The very least I can do is get you to safety.”

That’s a bit of a leap in logic, to blame himself for my clumsy feet. I start to say so, but he shushes me. I hear the quick footsteps a moment after he does. While I still feel shaky, my resolve hasn’t wavered: I will not be the reason Julian gets caught.

Wordlessly, he shepherds me into the shadows. There’s a narrow path leading down into the city mere steps away; it crosses my mind that he’d been running along it as I stumbled through the loose rock at the edge of the reservoir. With one last check of the streets, Julian leads the way into the neighborhood, pausing at every corner and keeping his ears open for sounds of pursuit.

We don’t hear anything until we’re several blocks into the district. We’ve been walking softly, aware of every step, keeping close to walls and taking wide detours around well-lit doorways and windows. But Julian freezes beside a dilapidated shed and scoops me under his dark coat a mere instant before two of the Palace’s soldiers turn the corner at the far end of the street.

“— said they saw a tall guy head up to the old aqueduct pool. Vira’s rounds go by there but I don’t think she’s passed yet.”

The conversation is faint but distinct.

“Wanna check it out? We’d earn ourselves a nice bonus catching old Doctor Jules, eh?”

Julian trembles, his heartbeat redoubled. His jacket is damp with blood, both his and mine, but he seems to be ignoring whatever pain the wound caused. I peer up at him, pale in the darkness. To my surprise, he’s already looking back. We’re so _close_ … he has me pinned against the rough sandstone bricks all South End buildings are made of, arms wrapped around me to hold me to his chest. I feel him flush when our eyes meet, but he doesn’t let go.

And I don’t want him to.

The pair of guards ambles closer. Our only option is to flee before they reach us: the lantern they carry will pick us out as easily as broad daylight. Julian doesn’t need to warn me before he takes my hand and bolts back the way we came.

I expect shouts of surprise, but none chase us into the labyrinthine alleyways. Still Julian presses on, hauling me with him. He’s quick and agile, darting down side streets I don’t even see until we enter them. Despite the adrenaline coursing through me, it isn’t long before I fall behind, lungs burning and a stitch under my ribs.

I’ve never been a runner.

I can’t keep up.

Behind the lightheadedness of blood loss and breathlessness of this desperate sprint, shame blooms like ink in water, spreading faster with every harsh gasp. I need to run and I can't. Julian needs me to run and I can't. I'm too fat, too out of shape, too lazy to escape with him, to push myself when I need it most. He shouldn't wait for me. He shouldn't have to.

But he slows to a jog when my hand slips from his, then pauses to look back at me from the shadow of a second-floor overhang. I can’t see his expression in the dark, but I can imagine it. Disgust. Pity. Revulsion and regret, for dragging me along. Mockery, maybe. _She can’t even run this far? How sad_. I turn away and try to hide my desperate gulps of air, wrestling with the lump in my throat. I can’t add crying to the mess I’ve already made of our chance meeting.

“Just around the next corner, there’s a little garden.”

Damn him. He barely sounds winded.

“At least I think it’s still a garden. I hope it is. It used to be. Anyway, we can hunker down for a bit and let the guards change shifts. What do you say?”

I don’t know if he was planning on stopping there or if he made a split-second decision when he saw me doubled over and panting. Either way, I have no idea where we are and no hope of making my way home through all these twists and turns. My sense of direction may be good, but it's not _that_ good. Regardless, and as ashamed as I am of myself right now, I need to catch my breath before I can do anything else. A hidden garden would at least prevent Julian from being seen, even if he has to watch me gasp and sweat and be generally pathetic. Why he won’t just leave is beyond me. Clearly I wouldn’t be able to catch up.

Somehow, I manage to draw a deep enough breath to agree. He stays beside me, though, and I can’t keep disguising my wheezing if I want to stay conscious. Tears rush to meet that thought: I should just pass out and get it over with. At least he couldn’t justify actually carrying my deadweight the next time the guards come around.

I’ll miss him, I think, if I can remember these last few days without hating myself too much. Ridiculous of me to even entertain the idea of he and I… no. He was too good for me from the start and I should’ve known that. All I have are dreams. All I’ll ever have are dreams. I can run forever there, beside him or alone, with no fat body or weak lungs to humiliate me. I could dissolve into the air itself and never burden anyone again. Clouds don’t worry about love or acceptance. Moonlight never fears making a fool of itself. The vast, dark emptiness behind the stars doesn’t need to be chosen to belong in the canvas of the night sky.

But I do. 

“Here we are.” Julian stops and gestures to a gate so overgrown I can barely differentiate it from the ivy-covered wall. He jostles the latch, rattling the rusted mechanisms inside the lock, and the gate swings open to reveal a tunnel of greenery. When we emerge on the other side, he makes straight for a tree laden with glowing blue blossoms, stepping over gnarled roots and sprawling flowerbeds. I see a bench beneath its branches. Thank god. At least I’ll be able to sit for a moment before all this ends.

Julian turns to me as soon as I drop to the slab of stone, concern in his eye and the lines of his face. I duck my head to avoid it. The stitch in my side is already easing and I don’t want him to see me like this any more than he already has.

“Reyja?”

I think I’ll miss the sound of my name in his voice the most. It’s almost pretty when he says it.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

He must call everyone that. “Yeah.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me. And he shouldn’t: I’m not alright at all. But I won’t say so to him: that can of worms will stay tightly sealed until I’m alone again.

“Erm… even the bite?”

Another clench of shame takes hold of my throat at the reminder of the first incident of the evening. “Yeah.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Too long. “May I check it anyway?”

Why would he…? “No, no, you don’t— it’s fine. I’m fine. Please, just… You never have to see it again. See _me_ again.”

I’ve said it now. That makes it too final. The tears I’ve been fighting jump at my lowered defenses and spill down my cheeks. My round, red, acne-scarred, disgusting, awful—

“I want to.”

It takes me a moment to even register that he spoke, but when I parse the words… no. It's not possible. “What?”

“I want to see you again.”

He doesn’t mean it. After everything I’ve done? “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

The blue light from the tree fractures as I wheel on him, breaking at last. “What could you possibly want with me, Julian? Puffing after you like a fat pig, tripping over nothing, putting you in even more danger than you’re already in? You should be halfway across the city by now, out of harm’s way, not turning around every five seconds to make sure I haven’t ruined anything else.” A sob interrupts me. “I just weigh you down. It’s the only thing I’m any fucking good at.”

As soon as I open my mouth, I wish I hadn’t. I curl into myself at the end of the bench, trying to get it together again. But the tears keep coming.

I can’t breathe.

I had been running, and now I'm not. I’m just as helpless as I was when the water closed over my head, though. If only the shock would hit and ease this pain too.

But a strong hand hauls me back, anchoring me where it rests on my thigh. “You…” Julian begins, but he chokes on the rest of the words. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was struggling with tears of his own. “Oh, I wish you didn’t think that, Reyja. Please don’t think that! I must’ve made you believe— No, you’ve never— Oh, sweetheart, you could never weigh me down! I’m— You’re— When I saw you up there, up on the cliffs, I couldn’t— It was you! It was actually you! I’d been hoping so dearly to see you…”

I don’t understand. I don’t understand! He scoots closer to me, and I still don’t understand. “Why?” I whisper. It’s all I can think of to say.

“I, erm… Well, I— I haven’t stopped thinking about you since, a-ha, since…” He’s blushing again, looking at his feet. “Since I left your shop. The second time.”

The second time was the morning I came into the city with Portia, the night after we talked for hours through the smoke and laughter of the Rowdy Raven. When he’d invited me to pat him down for stolen goods, and I did. He had blushed then, too. Even as I ran my hands down his back, his arms, his chest, I couldn’t believe I’d been so bold. And when I reached his hips, started searching his pockets…

 _You like this, don’t you?_ I’d said to him, eyeing him with one brow raised.

_I, ah, I don’t dislike it, if that’s what you mean._

The bulge in his trousers agreed. But I pressed him.

_You don’t know me well enough to be that excited just to see me._

He’d laughed self-consciously but made no attempt to move away or cover himself. _Yes, well. It’s been a long time since anyone…_ He paused, letting me fill in the blank. _And as I said, I don’t dislike things like this. Or, erm, or people like you._

I thought he’d been joking, or at least generalizing, even with the evidence clear between his legs. And now, as he peeks sidelong at me from beneath his eyelashes, his hand gentle where it lays on my leg…

Julian smiles shyly when I meet his gaze. “I suppose I thought we might, ah, pick up where we left off. B-but if you don’t want to, or, or, or have any sort of reservation, I’ll gladly— well, not _gladly_ , but, erm…”

What we’d done at the shop was a one-time thing, I’d thought, more teasing than flirting. It was always more teasing than flirting. “I still don’t understand why you’d want to,” I say softly.

He cocks his head. “Has no one ever wanted to touch you before?”

I study our contrasting shadows, sharply defined by the light of the flowers overhead. He’s really going to make me say it, isn’t he? “No.”

“S-so… so all that, when you caught me?”

He’s going to make me say this too. “I can still know what I like,” I mumble.

Julian’s quiet for a long time, but he doesn’t move his hand. Slowly, after what feels like an age with every heartbeat falling into the cavernous pit my stomach has become, he squeezes my thigh. And he laughs. And he guides my chin with a brush of his fingers to look him in the eye.

“I know what I like, too. And… and I didn’t see, o-or feel, anything when I was examining you that didn’t fit the bill.” His gaze roams my body before he clears his throat and smiles again.

I think I lost too much blood when the eel bit me. Maybe I did faint after all, when I couldn’t catch my breath. Or I hit my head when I fell, or whatever magical touch Asra bestowed on him actually killed me. This can’t be real.

But somehow, Julian Devorak is sitting next to me, touching me and grinning at me, telling me that he feels the same way about me as I do about him.

Something lands on my shoulder, startling me out of my shock. But Julian chuckles and picks it up. It’s one of the glowing flowers. He rolls the stem between his fingers, spinning it slowly.

“Do you know what this is, Reyja?”

I shake my head.

“Deadly starstrand. Very hard to come by, this. Most herbalists don’t stock it.”

“Why?”

“The poison brewed from it kills faster than victims can call for help. From what I understand, there are several processes involved in turning it from this to that, but it’s funny, isn’t it, how something so beautiful produces something so dangerous.”

He tucks the flower behind my ear, letting his bare fingers trail along my jawline. In its light, he looks almost wistful, like there’s a weight to his words he doesn’t want to put down. But before I can ask about it, he pats my leg and stands, holding out his hand to help me up too.

“A friend of mine lives nearby,” he says. “I’d offer to take you back to your shop, or, ahem, t-to my own lodgings, but I’m afraid the guards will be on high alert all across the city tonight. Even the shift change will only give us a few minutes to slip by them. Of course, I can point you in the right direction, if you’d prefer it, but I’d be terribly worried about you. The South End isn’t the friendliest neighborhood at this hour.”

I… I don’t want to leave. I've never wanted to leave. If I do, how can I count on him still being here, still wanting me, when I come back? “Will your friend be mad?”

“Ha, she’s well used to me dropping in by now. And if I happen to, ahhh, bring along some company…” He beams. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to meet you."


End file.
